Close Shave
by ardavenport
Summary: Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan perform a valuable service for a planet in need.


**CLOSE SHAVE**

by ardavenport

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Lights flashed in the darkness. Barely visible through his closed eyelids, under the close-fitting eye coverings.

A loud repetitive warning blared, thundering through the swirling, vibrating air. Muffled by the hastily applied protection partially stuffed into his ear canals. Infinitesimally small, but still perceptible, tiny flakes, specks and particles in the air impacted the insti-plas skin covering his nearly naked body.

The patterned floor under his sheathed feet trembled. A wide door opened before him, adding a faint yellow hue to the repeating orange interrupting the dark behind his eyelids. The deadly threat of weapons powering up, clicking into place, prepared for destruction, the sound echoing distantly in the mini-maelstrom in the dark cavernous vault.

Obi-Wan Kenobi felt it all inside him. Saw it, heard it, tasted the energies of life and power through the Force. He seemed to float on it with each forward step, connecting him to the cavernous vault around him, the weapons on all sides, the metaloid floor, the angry air and his Master on the opposite side of the massive security box that glided ahead of them.

Arms raised, he guided the hardened metalloid cube in unison with Qui-Gon Jinn, a trivial for either of them. With the Force.

The box approached the opening, hovering closer and closer to the energy shield.

The lead edge of it impacted and passed through the energy barrier, but Obi-Wan felt only insignificant resistance. The box passed though, the energy a thick line belting it, sliding down its length before passed through the barrier like a ship docking. The yellow glow of the room beyond the shield barrier now dominated the darkness behind his eyelids.

Qui-Gon's hand touched the shield barrier first. Then his arm.

Then Obi-Wan's hand touched the energy wall, and with a little push it went in.

The force field prickled him mercilessly through the insti-plas sheathing his skin, but Obi-Wan's attention remained on the secure box, still floating ahead of them.

Both arms were inside the shield barrier, his left hand already past it. The rest of him went in as he continued steadily forward. Energy jabbed his body everywhere as he passed through, looking for vulnerable flesh to incinerate, snapping against the temporary sheathing that protected him.

He left the shield wall behind, his heel the last bit of him to feel its sting. Qui-Gon had passed through as well. Their only remaining task, the secure box, floated peacefully over a reinforced plastoid pallet and descended, it's weight, more than twenty times the two adult Jedi combined, settled into place. The Force swelled around it, filling the room.

Through his feet, he felt the rumble of the anteroom's massive door closing behind them, ponderously coming down over the opening.

Obi-Wan lowered his arms.

And was still.

Completely, utterly, still.

A quick, de-contaminating flash made even the insides of Obi-Wan's eyelids bright. Then it quickly faded away.

He pushed outward with a breath of only the Force. It ripped out the waxy plug filling his mouth and he took in air.

The life-giving oxygen filled his lungs as he let go of the Force that had sustained his strength for the retrieval of the secure box from the hostile vault now behind and sealed off. He felt how badly this primal need had been held off. He gasped in air, letting his body's impulses have their way for a moment before calming them.

He flexed his hands. The thin membrane covering them slid under the thicker insti-plas that sealed in his whole body. The outer sheath cracked and parted as he worked his fingers and his wrists free. Then with one hand he found the edge of the inner membrane at the base of the other's palm. He pulled if off and flexed his exposed hand before using it to free the other.

Carefully probing the sides of his head, his fingers found the edges of the plugs over his ears. Every motion echoed loudly inside his head. He pried the plugs off, slowly, making sure that all the material came out. The once flexible insti-plas covering encasing his body crackled and flaked with every movement. First assaulted by the shield energy he had passed through and then further degraded by the final flash of decontamination. But most of it still stubbornly clung to him, pinching and crinkling. The minimal covering stretched over his lower body underneath the ruined insti-plas bit into his hips, cramped his groin and cut into the crack at the base of his spine. The cap of the same material protecting his hair and Padawan's braid tightly clamped his skull and was beginning to give him a headache.

With his ears unplugged, all his body's noises could get out instead being trapped inside his skull. He heard Qui-Gon nearby, crackling and crickling as he also pried off the extra protection on his head.

Obi-Wan next began picking at the edges of the waxy patches over his eyes. His fingers found and exploited cracks and made them into larger openings. He carefully pried off the patches, minimizing the pull on his skin as much as possible. And without taking his eyebrows and eyelashes off.

Blinking in the artificial light of the anteroom, he looked about and saw Qui-Gon unscrewing a waxy whitish-yellow gob from his ear. They both just dropped the bits on the floor. Between them, the blue-metaloid box, as tall as Obi-Wan's chest level, inertly sat on its pallet.

Hearing a faint noise of energy discharges, he looked behind him toward the shield door that had come down between them and the vault chamber. He realized that he had been hearing the muffled sounds since he unblocked his ears and was only now noticing it. The sabotaged security systems had gone off in their wake, but the box and its contents was now safely outside of the danger area. So were he and Qui-Gon. Just in time.

He looked forward toward the silver door leading out of the anteroom.

"Should they not be here by now?" he wondered aloud.

Qui-Gon paused in his examination of a waxy blob before tossing it aside.

"I would expect them to be a little busy at the moment. Especially Marshall Tamaar," he commented. A bright blue membrane covered his head and the lump of his long hair, and his chin and under his lip. The water-tight material protected his beard and mustache from the insti-plas though it was obvious that some hairs were still caught in it and would have to come off with it. The same blue material covered only the most sensitive parts of Obi-Wan's own lower body with a knot tied at the back, pulling the membrane into a tight seal around everything. The once transparent insti-plas had gone opaque in large whitish patches.

Obi-Wan thought about what might delay the heads of the Zhardin Union.

"Do you think that Minister Curaant would give them much trouble?" he asked.

Obviously pleased that his young apprentice had correctly identified the blackmailers' accomplice, Qui-Gon smiled, though the stretched blue material on his chin limited the expression.

"He might." Qui-Gon gestured toward one side of the room. "In the meantime, I prefer to remove all of this as soon as possible."

They both stiffly crossed the low-ceilinged, gray anteroom to the preparation alcove. Without the Force to focus his attention, he felt every squeeze and cut of the blue membrane, cramping his groin and the insti-plas tugging on every exposed hair loose skin on his body. Obi-Wan took only small quick steps. Qui-Gon did as well. Obi-Wan had never seen his powerful and strong Master move that way.

Qui-Gon got there first and picked up a vibro-cutter. He waved for Obi-Wan to turn around. As soon as he did, he felt the knot of tight blue membrane at the base of his own spine being snipped off. Immediately it loosened though the insti-plas at the edges still held it in place. One quick slice up the back of his head immediately released the blue vice from around his head. Qui-Gon also skimmed off a section on the inside of his elbows so his arms could move more freely. Then Obi-Wan turned around, took the cutter and performed the same service for his Master, who took a second cutter and started removing the insti-plas from his chest.

Reaching up to Qui-Gon's shoulders, Obi-Wan applied the vibro-cutter to the larger cracks in the insti-plas clinging to his back. The tool hummed quietly as loose bits popped off and tick-ticked on the floor. Other patches, nearly white with clusters of fine cracks, peeled off in large sections. Obi-Wan kicked those out of the way. The cutter shaved off what little hair there was, trapped in the insti-plas, while the low setting on the instrument prevented it from abrading or breaking the skin.

Though it was organic and non-toxic, the insti-plas had not been designed to be used on people who would normally don environment suits to enter the vault chamber where the now-corrupted defensive systems would attack any form of technology.

The skin of Qui-Gon's back, smooth and a little clammy under Obi-Wan's fingers, pinked when exposed to air again, but the cutter freed the temporary, air-tight covering cleanly. It also released the trapped body odor as well. His Master flexed the muscles of his back as the insti-plas dropped away. Obi-Wan worked more quickly as his hands gained a feel for the task, cleaning off strips in long downward strokes. He kicked more debris away, but it scattered in all directions and he had small bits of it uncomfortably stuck to the bottoms of the insti-plas on his feet. Rubbing a foot on one ankle didn't work; as soon as he got one bit off more would take its place.

After Obi-Wan cleared the backs of the arms he went to work on the lower back around the strap of the blue membrane, the flesh bulging out around it. Qui-Gon switched from the slower task of shaving the insti-plas from his chest and stomach to help free the edges of the membrane from his hips. The uncomfortable extra layer of protection dropped to Qui-Gon's ankles; he stepped out of it and kicked it away.

Bending down carefully, Obi-Wan finished cleaning the insti-plas from his Master's lower back and began on his upper thighs. He could not properly bend his own body and knees without painfully pulling on the hairs trapped in the insti-plas and pressing cracked edges biting into his flesh.

"Obi-Wan."

He looked up and his Master gestured for him to turn around. He straightened and complied. He began the slow process of removing the insti-plas from his front. His chin, neck and shoulders were easy, but the lower he got the slower his progress. He was not naturally very hairy and he was only twenty-two years of age, but every single hair made itself known as he shaved them off with the chunks of brittle insti-plas. Qui-Gon's fingers lightly probed his neck and back as he quickly removed the material there. They both gave up trying to kick away any but the largest remains of it from the growing pile at their feet.

"They must be having more trouble with Minister Curaant than they were prepared for," Qui-Gon commented, stroking away stray bits from Obi-Wan's back before skimming the vibro-cutter lower.

"Should we go help them?" Obi-Wan asked with a grimace as he freed a particularly sensitive part of his chest from the grip of the insti-plas.

"Marshall Tamaar has a squad of her best guards available. They may be delayed, but I doubt that Curaant could defeat them all."

"He has accomplices," Obi-Wan reminded.

"True. But I think Tamaar is more a tool of this plot than a leader. And I sense that his partners in crime will not risk themselves to help." The vibro-cutter hummed on. If Obi-Wan hadn't been yanking hair out of his front, the shave to his backside might have tickled.

His hand braced on Obi-Wan's side, Qui-Gon cut through the strips of membrane at his apprentice's hips. Suddenly the weight of the blue material rested entirely on the hairs trapped at the edges. Obi-Wan hastened to shave them off. When the membrane, slick with sweat on the inside surface, fell off him, he kicked it away into the debris. They both side-stepped away from the remains on the floor. Obi-Wan pulled a big section from his side, but it got painfully caught in some leftover hair from under his arm and he hastily cut it off so the insti-plas could fall to the floor.

They'd had the forethought to use the cutters to shave away body hair before being sprayed with the insti-plas layer that would protect them in the hostile environment of the vault. But they had been rushed by the severe time limit placed on them by the criminals threatening to destroy the treasures of the Zhardin Union with the defenses of the government's own security vault unless they were paid by a secret currency transfer. Of course, the Jedi did not care about the ransom or the valuables themselves, but the livelihoods and lives that did depend on them.

Qui-Gon finished shaving the last of the insti-plas from Obi-Wan's backside, thighs and calves and then went to the work area's bench to sit down. He immediately popped up again to brush jagged crumbs of insti-plas from his own backside before reseating himself. Obi-Wan brushed himself off before sitting next to him on the hard plastoid bench.

Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose as he began more carefully removing insti-plas from the edges of the membrane on his head. They both smelled of confined sweat and worse. He shaved the last bit of hair at the edge of the membrane cap and finally took it off. At once the air felt cooler, if not any fresher. His Padawan's braid dropped down onto his shoulder and he pulled the last bits from his forehead.

Next to him, Qui-Gon had freed his long hair with a sigh. Then he brushed it back behind his shoulders and bend down to shave off the insti-plas from the front of his legs. Obi-Wan started picking at the material on his arms.

The door to the outside of the anteroom hissed open.

A tall, male humanoid stepped in. He had trimmed gray hair, fading brown skin and wore a long, plush, dark-blue tunic that went down to the toes of his polished blue boots. He spread his arms in unmasked joy.

"Aaaaaaaahhh!!" Minister of Finance Glaakar exclaimed and threw himself forward, his arms clasping the top of the secure box. Obi-Wan could not tell if the sounds he made were weeping or laughing.

"I don't believe it," First Minister Huluum declared, his handsome face slack with wonder as he watched his Finance Minister's breakdown.

"Well, I never doubted them," Deputy First Minister Chitiik said, denying her earlier criticisms. She stepped forward and turned toward their saviors.

And did a quick turn away from them.

" - - - and the Jedi are still naked."

"Oh!" Minister of Public Safety Kluchuum, who had just come in, hastily covered her eyes.

"That's more of them than I needed to see," Minister of Transport Diiki complained. "Where did those robes go?"

Marshall Tamaar, who came in last, looked disgusted at the reactions of the Ministers, but she did not look directly at the Jedi either.

Huluum turned toward them, but averted his eyes.

"While our gratitude for your service knows no bounds, could your Graces cover up, at least the more sensitive parts of your esteemed selves, please?" the politician requested politely.

"Of course," Qui-Gon agreed, inclining his head. He stood up. All the Ministers flinched into a tight group, except for Glaakar, who was still too ecstatic to notice or care. Qui-Gon went to the wall storage unit where their things had been placed. Obi-Wan kept his eyes lowered to his task of removing more insti-plas from his arms, the vibro-cutter humming softly.

The Minister had dressed in the long, rich formal blue tunics of their offices. If they had been forced to pay the ransom, or worse, if their government's treasures had been destroyed, they had all been prepared to resign their offices. So, they had dressed for the occasion. But while their luxurious clothes were suitable for governing, they had been impractical for preparing the Jedi for their dangerous task. No technician, no droid could be trusted to even know about the secret arrival of the Jedi who had come in response to their desperate plea.

Marshall Tamaar had done most of the work, stoically staring forward to do her duty while the six others helped and tried to keep insti-plas off of their sleeves. But now there were only five Ministers with the Marshall. Minister Curaant was no longer among them.

Obi-Wan clicked off the cutter long enough to catch the brown robe that Qui-Gon tossed to him. He settled it in his lap and went back to shaving one arm, holding it out so the bits fell on the floor. He was happy to conceal himself with the robe and that the Ministers would not approach them. Aside from their rank aroma, they looked appalling, their bodies mottled pink and half-covered with crusts of ruined insti-plas. Qui-Gon sat down again next to him, his mid-section now modestly covered.

"We presumed that Minister Curaant gave you some trouble and that this delayed you," he said to the relieved officials. Marshall Tamaar opened her mouth in awe.

"Now I don't believe it. How did you know that?"

Qui-Gon smiled, inviting Obi-Wan to explain. He lowered his arm and turned off the cutter.

"He was the only one among you who was worried that we would succeed rather than fail. And he is no longer with you now," he finished.

Tamaar relaxed. "Well, I guess that last thing makes it obvious." She looked toward the secure box. "Do you think we should get something for Glaakar? Or just leave them alone for some 'private time'?"

Chitiik and Kluchuum hustled forward to gently pull their comrade from the box and guide him toward the exit.

"I still don't believe it," Diiki muttered, following.

"We will send droids to help you clean up Master Qui-Gon," Huluum said with a bow, recovering his good manners. "And again, our profuse thanks for your noble service." He left with Chitiik.

"There's a full contingent of guards outside," Marshall Tamaar told them with smirk on her ruddy face, "to protect this." She indicated the huge secure box. "Just join us in the conference room when you're ready." She bowed and left. The door closed behind her, leaving them alone again. Obi-Wan noticed that the weapons-fire sounds from the vault chamber had stopped, increasing the silence.

Qui-Gon threw off his robe and activated his vibro-cutter again. A flat section of insti-plas fell off of the older man's leg. Obi-Wan put his robe aside and did the same. But he looked toward the door to the vault.

"It was a very near thing, that we left the vault when we did. And that we were able to retrieve the secure box for the Zhardin," he said.

"Yes," Qui-Gon agreed, unconcerned and fingering a cloudy chunk of insti-plas still clinging to his chin and dangling from the hair of his beard. "It was very close."

He shaved it off. It clicked as it landed on the bench between them.

**^****^^****^^ END ^^****^^******

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This story is a test of a twitterable format. It was first posted on tf.n: 2-August-2009

**Disclaimer: **All characters and situations belong to George and Lucasfilm; I'm just playing in their sandbox.


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